


The Boy Who Watched The Boy Hypnotize The World

by daisychains54



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtuber RPF, tronnor - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Tour life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisychains54/pseuds/daisychains54
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing Connor loves more than watching the world fall in love with Troye, almost as hard and as fast as he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seattle

Nervous doesn't even begin to describe how Troye feels.

 

It is minutes before his first show and he’s so restless he keeps trying to bite his nails, only to have his mother take his hand out of his mouth, reminding him gently that nail polish isn't particularly nutritious and she has no intention of rushing him to a hospital. He laughs, glad he has her there and really wanting to take her on stage with him. He wishes he could sing his entire set only to her, staring at her dark, comforting eyes that have always been there whenever he's needed reassurance. His mother is the soft spoken yet intelligent voice of reason in the family so he couldn’t think of anyone better fit to accompany him during his first show. 

 

He takes a bottle of water and chugs half of it, his nerves rattling around his entire body. He remembers being nervous at Vidcon both times he announced he was releasing music, but the trepidation he feels now is incomparable. His stomach is currently one super knot and his hands are shaking like a magnitude 9 earthquake on the Richter scale. He keeps pacing and trying to breathe but he trips over himself and forgets he needs to let his breath go for the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide to be effective. He stares at his phone for the hundredth time, still hoping to get that extra piece of reassurance before he has to face his biggest fear.

 

"10 minutes till you're on, bubbie" his mother says, tapping his shoulder gently because he completely missed the stage manager who just came in with the warning. "It's going to be alright," she reassures him, her hand now making small circles on his back, her voice calming like morning waves against the shore. "You're going to do great. You've sung in front of loads of people before."

 

"Yes but never my own music," Troye says, "this is so much more terrifying," feeling his anxiety shaking his very core. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he's surprised to see himself at 20 years old and not 15 because he feels like that boy again, that boy that monumentally screwed up in front of a room full of people and was so traumatized he thought he’d never sing again. Yet here he is, again with a room full of people he promised he could sing his songs too. As he looks at himself, he feels young and helpless and why can't his mum just hold his hand while he's on stage? He takes one last quick breath and just as he's about to exhale, his phone rings.

 

"Laurelle?" Connor asks, thinking he's missed Troye and the disappointment in his voice makes Troye smile and wonder how he managed to find such a caring person to call his own.

 

"No, it's me," Troye says, taking a quick seat on the couch to steady his racing heart; Connor's voice alone is enough to turn Troye’s entire world off its axis. "I go on in like 8 minutes. I thought you'd forgotten."

 

Connor gasps. "I would never," he says emphatically, letting out a breath of laughter. "I just managed to sneak away to a quiet enough place so I could call you. Have you been doing those breathing exercises I sent you?"

 

Troye laughs, imagining Connor scouring google during his flight earlier today for the perfect 5 minute meditation guide to send Troye. "Yes, I've done them. A hundred times. Still nervous as fuck." 

 

Connor laughs and Troye wishes he could crawl into that sound. He thinks of all the lyrics he's written about the man on the other side of the phone and a part of him dies because he wants nothing more than to have Connor here. "I wish you were here," he admits in a small whisper, turning away from his mom so he can ignore the wink she throws his way.

 

"I wish I was there too," Connor whispers back, "but I'll be there for the next one and the next one and all the ones possible."

 

Troye laughs, rolling and unrolling his sleeves. "Fans are going to go ballistic at all those Tronnor sightings,” he says sarcastically. 

 

Connor chuckles back. “They already know we’re dating, they’re used to it by now.”

 

"You're on in 5," the stage manager is back to remind Troye that he does not in fact live lodged somewhere in space held in place solely by Connor's voice. Troye feels his nerves again but this time slightly dulled, at the back of his mind instead of racing out in front of him. "I have to go," he says quickly hoping to get Connor's last words of wisdom tattooed into his mind.

 

"Remember,” Connor starts, voice serious and reassuring, “you are incredibly talented. You've worked so hard for this and it's alright to mess up, no one expects you to be perfect, and you're harder on yourself than anyone else will be there tonight." Connor takes a breath. “I love you, I believe in you, and I am so so so proud of you. Times infinity."

 

Troye's smile stretches across the galaxies. "Thanks, Con. I love you too. And have fun in Texas, but try not to clog your arteries."

 

And with a final laugh from the sun himself, Troye hangs up the phone and feels slightly better equipped to conquer his fears knowing he has a constant stream of love spanning all the way from Texas to Seattle.


	2. San Francisco, Los Angeles, Minnesota

In San Francisco, Troye steps onto the stage and the screams are infinite. His smile sprawls across his face and the toothy grin suits him like an old comfortable sweater. He dives straight into BITE, not giving anyone the chance to catch their breath. Connor looks down at the crowd and can almost sense the unanimous amazement of all the people in the room. He feels like they're all looking at Troye through the same love drunk kaleidoscope and the entire world is a perfect jumble, Troye's body displayed in colorful scattered pieces.

 

When the first chords of FOOLS start a few songs later, Connor feels the same tingle he did the first time he heard it. Troye had been sitting on his side of the bed, fiddling with his laptop and mumbling to himself when Connor finally got him to spill the contents of his inner ramblings. He kept repeating how he wasn't supposed to show anyone any new songs but that Connor was an exception, right? Troye went on a rant about how obviously no one can expect Beyoncé to keep songs from Jay Z and Connor had laughed for an eternity at the comparison. When Troye finally convinced himself that the label meant everyone except Connor, he took out his headphones so Connor could listen to the song. Troye had looked at him with the same intense stare he reserved mostly for when he played Grand Theft Auto on his computer.

 

Connor had instantly loved the song, of course. He gushed about it and saw Troye's face morph from a timid and insecure boy into a proud and confident man. Now, as a multitude of people sing that very song back to that very same man, Connor can't help but feel his own pride welling up and filling the room to the brim. Troye looks so natural on stage, moving from one side to the next, occasionally allowing a few people to grab his hand. Connor laughs, remembering how Troye had pretended to fight off imaginary fans in Connor's apartment a year ago, when the prospect of touring was only a distant dream. Now, he welcomes the touches, makes eye contact like the person he's singing to is the only person this song was ever meant for. Connor wonders how Troye has that ability to just make everyone feel like they're special. He does it to Connor every time he’s the only person he’s noticing and talking to in the room. Connor recalls how nervous he’d been when he first met Troye, because although still not his true self, he’d felt an instant attraction to Troye. Not necessarily physical, but essentially an attraction to his entire being. Their skype calls became longer and longer the more they got to know each other, and Connor would find himself telling Troye things he never felt like telling anyone else. Connor figures that’s what happens when you fall for someone; it is so easy to share every last bit of yourself because the pieces are already scattered on the floor.

 

Connor focuses back on Troye and he’s pretty sure his smile must be the largest it’s ever been. Troye commands the fans to shout back to him and they do so gladly, yelling their heart out for him. Connor feels a little teary eyed, and he blinks before Tyde can make fun of him and tell Troye later. He feels like crying because he’s seen this boy, this brilliant and amazing boy, work so hard to achieve what he’s doing now. He wonders if everyone in the room feels as a part of history as Connor does. He wonders if in ten years from now they’ll be surrounded by thousands more fans singing back number one hits they’ve all heard on the radio a million times. Connor feels the goosebumps on his arms as he watches Troye command everyone’s attention and the crowd goes wild. Connor feels like he’s under a trance, his thoughts focused solely on Troye and the realization that he has never felt more alive than in this moment.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor drives like his life depends on it because his life is actually depending on him arriving at least somewhat on time. He breaks when he needs to and even lets sluggish old ladies cross in front of him when they want to, but his heart is already dancing under flashing lights and pulsing music. Even though he's already seen Troye perform, and he’s just come out of an engagement so Troye would understand, he's become completely intoxicated by the feeling of seeing his favorite person glowing like the largest explosion of gas in the sky. None of the words that Connor knows in the entire English language can muster up the sensation he gets when seeing Troye perform. Connor tries, he tried last night to get thoughts into words, as if for a script for a video he surely will never even upload, let alone make, but he came up short every time. Like when he tries to explain the feeling of holding Troye, touching him, even just looking at him, his mind comes up short.

 

He knows Troye can describe it. Connor knows he can every time he hears a line from one of Troye’s songs that expresses how he feels so effortlessly it actually physically constricts Connor’s heart in his chest. Connor wonders what it must be like to walk around with a perfect narration for every event in your head. Sometimes he sees it in Troye, sees the little gadgets moving in his brain as he tries to quickly lock away a lyric when Connor looks at him a new way or says something that sparks a creative match. It’s fascinating, Connor thinks, being in love with someone who sees so much more than most people. Connor guesses he’s like that with his photography, because on more than one occasion Troye has asked him how the hell he took a unique picture of something they were both looking at. Connor loves dating someone creative. He loves loving Troye and then having a song play on the radio about that same love; their love. Connor laughs at himself, aware of how cheesy he sounds, and how Troye would probably roll his eyes so far back into his head he’d go blind if he could hear Connor’s thoughts now.

 

Connor arrives at the venue and slips in, keeping his entire being under an imaginary cloak of invisibility because this is Troye's night, and only Troye’s. As Connor stands in the crowd, he wishes he could shrink into the smallest shape, become lightweight enough for Troye's voice to carry him through the room instead.

 

 

Later that night when they’re back in Connor’s apartment, wrapped around each other sharing lazy kisses under a fort of blankets, Connor can’t stop telling Troye how happy he is.

 

“You just looked amazing,” he says for the billionth time. “I think I’m going to go crazy these next few days while we’re apart.”

 

“It’s only 4 days,” Troye says, placing his freezing feet between Connor’s. He yelps and pushes Troye away, who’s laughing hysterically and trying to get his feet back on Connor’s body. “You’re such a baby, it’s only one show.”

 

“Each show I miss feels like I’m being deprived of oxygen,” Connor says, emphasizing by taking a large breath and holding it until he feels lightheaded. Troye rolls his eyes but his hands are wrapped around Connor’s arms and he’s smiling. “And besides, after Minneapolis I won’t see you until New York.”

 

Connor’s pout is eaten up by Troye’s hungry lips. Connor tastes spearmint mixed with celebratory drinks on Troye’s lips. The boys from LANY had invited Troye and Connor for some drinks, but Troye had insisted they leave early so he could terrorize Connor with his freezing feet. Now, as Connor tries desperately to get Troye’s upper body closer to him while simultaneously pushing his lower body away, he laughs into Troye’s mouth and can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m so nervous, what if she doesn’t like me?”

 

Connor laughs, but quickly bites his tongue when he sees the anxiety in Troye’s face is very much real. “Don’t be silly, she’s going to adore you. I’ve just about talked her ear off telling her how amazing you are.” Connor puts his arms on Troye’s tense shoulders and quickly starts to ease the two boulders currently lodged between his shoulder blades. “You’re meeting my grandmother, not the queen of England.”

 

“Oh my god, I much rather meet Queen Elizabeth right now, trust me,” Troye insists. He grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge. Backstage is cramped with people running around trying to prepare for the show in an hour, but all Troye can think about is meeting grandma Franta. It’s honestly too adorable for Connor to take seriously. It’s Troye’s 6th show and his pre-show nerves are much better now, but apparently not when it comes to meeting family members.

 

“What if she hates my nails?” Troye asks. “What if she thinks I’m too skinny? Nans never like skinny boys, she might think my family doesn’t feed me properly or that I have bad parents. What if she doesn’t like the show? Oh God, should I not sing bite? What if she thinks I’m a freak?” Troye asks, pacing around the room and leaving a cartoon trail of smoke behind him with each wild turn he takes. Connor goes up to him and grabs his shoulders again. “Stop, okay, she’s going to love you. My mom is constantly telling her how happy you make me and how well behaved you are which we both know is a lie but that’s what elderly people like to hear.”

 

Troye cracks a small smile but he’s still visibly terrified. Connor didn’t know that meeting his grandma before the show would make Troye such a nervous wreck. If he had known he probably wouldn’t have invited her, but Nicola kept saying she wanted to meet him and before Connor could ask Troye, grandma Franta was already on her way over in the family car.

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Connor reassures him, just in time for his mom and dad to barrel into the door, with Nicola, Brandon, and the woman of the hour in tow. Connor feels his hand being squeezed for a split second before he’s enveloped in his mother’s arms, her eyes shining and happy as ever. When he looks back at Troye, he’s in a tight hug with Nicola and Connor has to refrain from taking out his phone to capture it because he knows he’s never going to forget the way Troye always looks so at home with his family.

 

“Where’s my boy?” grandma Franta asks as she elbows Brandon out of the way to get to the front of the group. Connor opens his arms, thinking she’s coming to give him a hug, when instead she goes straight to Troye and gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Connor can’t stop himself from laughing at the shocked expression on Troye’s face. “You’re even more handsome in person,” she says, showing him a picture she has saved on her phone of Connor and Troye, and Troye’s giving her another hug and smiling like mad.

 

“Grandma,” Connor objects, feigning jealousy. “I thought I was your boy.”

 

“Well, now I have two boys,” she says, and everyone laughs when Brandon throws his arms in the air and asks, “What am I? A potted plant?”

 

Troye and grandma Franta go and sit on the couch in the corner of the room and exchange pictures of Connor; his grandma shows Troye pictures of baby Connor she no doubt had Nicola upload to her phone and Troye shares the ones he has of them in his PG folder. She gushes over Troye’s nails and asks him if she’ll do hers after the show, and they are chatting like old friends catching up after years of not seeing each other. Her hands go up to fluff Troye’s curls and he smiles like she’s his own Nan. Connor remembers how nervous he’d been to meet her too, but like today, it went wonderfully. Troye’s nan had loved Connor’s green eyes and she had spent most of the trip trying to feed him. It was at the beginning of their relationship, when they were both confused as to what to call each other, but weren’t confused about their feelings. From the first second Connor saw Troye, he knew he would end up being someone incredibly special to him. Now watching the hallmark moment develop before him, Connor feels like all he’s ever wanted was for Troye to be considered amongst grandma Franta’s boys. He catches himself laughing aloud at the absurdity of that sentence.

 

“What’s he laughing at?” grandma Franta asks Troye.

 

“Trust me, nan,” Troye says, leaning in like they’re in on a secret, “no one ever knows.”

 

 

After the show, grandma Franta is the first one to congratulate Troye by telling him this is the longest she’s stayed up in a while. Troye looks ecstatic, more so than if it were a music journalist for the Rolling Stones complimenting his show. It’s not just grandma who enjoyed the show; the entire Franta gang is whole-heartedly proud of Troye.

 

“We could not be happier that our Connor has found someone as talented as you Troye,” Connor’s dad tells Troye, giving him a hardy pat on the back.

 

“You really were spectacular up there, Troye,” Nicola adds, “I can’t believe I personally know such a superstar.”

 

Connor comes up next to him and puts his arm around his waist as everyone praises him. “You were incredible,” he whispers in his ear. “Best show yet.”

 

Troye squeezes Connor’s arm and Troye’s smile blinds the entire world.

 

 

The next morning, Connor wakes up first and starts packing up before Troye gets up. They won’t see each other until his stop in New York in a few days, so Connor takes Troye’s phone and leaves him the mushiest message he can think of in his notes for him to find later. He likes to do that on occasion, to which he usually receives 20 sick face emojis followed by 40 blue hearts as a response. Connor finds the disparity hilarious. Most people who know Troye wouldn’t dare call him a sappy romantic, yet he’s written an album with lines that make the coldest of cynics feel entire ice blocks chip off inside of them. Connor is alright with being the one that takes the romantic pictures and comes up with the corny date ideas that they can usually do from the comfort of Connor’s apartment. Some of their best dates have been the ones where they stay inside all day, watching documentaries and ordering in food curled up on the couch, tangled up like puzzle pieces.

 

Connor is fixing his suitcase when he hears the bedsheets rustling. He looks up to see Troye with his arms wide, making grabbing motions at Connor, who understands this is his cue to get back in bed. “I love that we’ve gotten to the point where you just know my commands by heart,” Troye says, rubbing his eyes. Troye wraps his arms around Connor, pulling him close to his chest.

 

Connor’s laugh is muffled by the fabric of Troye’s shirt. “You’re hilarious,” he says, pulling his face away enough to give Troye a kiss on his sleepy lips. Troye tries to deepen the kiss but Connor pulls back, knowing all too well Troye won’t stop kissing him unless Connor stops him. If they start making out now, Troye isn’t going to get to the airport on time and Connor does not want to be responsible for his entire schedule being pushed back.

 

“You’re no fun,” Troye says with a charismatic pout Connor knows fans would lose their minds over. Connor used to lose his mind over that very pout, but he’s now developed resistance against it.

 

“I’m trying to be responsible because if it were up to you all we’d do would be makeout and eat mac n cheese.”

 

“I don’t see anything wrong with that scenario,” Troye says, taking Connor’s face in his hands to kiss him again, this time short and sweet. Connor takes one of Troye’s hands and kisses the inside of his palm, smiling at the shiver that goes down Troye’s spine. “Stop, you know I’m ticklish,” Troye whispers, trying to get away but Connor pulls his hand back to his mouth and bites the tender flesh between his thumb and index finger. “Ow, fuck, you cannibal,” Troye yells, gasping with laughter, his eyes wide from shock. He tries to pull his hand away a second time, but Connor manages to wrangle it back to his mouth again, however this time he stops to admire his painted fingernails.

 

“I really like this color,” he says, running his own bare fingernails over Troye’s hand.

 

Troye smiles, looking at Connor, who can see the idea forming in Troye’s head as he says, “I could always do yours sometime.”

 

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” Connor says.

 

Troye rolls his eyes. “What am I always telling you? You can rock whatever you want as long as you’re comfortable and confident in it.

 

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, taking Troye’s ring finger and pulling it into his mouth so that he’s biting slightly on his nail. Troye makes a face. “I just can’t imagine how it would look.”

 

“I can show you,” Troye says, immediately standing up to rummage through his luggage and find his nail polish bag. A lot of them are hand-me-downs from Dani or his mom, but he’s gotten a few of his own from drug stores. Troye likes to send Connor nail polish names out of context, confusing him beyond measure. Connor still remembers laughing for a long time when Troye sent him a text with the words “On Your Knees” followed by a picture of the nail polish and a devil emoji.

 

Troye brings his bag to the bed and sits next to Connor, placing the bag between them. “Pick a color. I’ll paint a finger and if you totally hate it we can just take it off.”

 

Connor looks through the bag and picks the color that matches Troye’s current one. Troye smiles but doesn’t say a word. He steadies Connor’s hand over a pillow and hovers over his index finger before Connor stops him. “Do this one,” he says, wiggling his ring finger in Troye’s face. Troye looks at him like he’s crazy.

 

“You sure?” he asks, “I mean we might as well put a ring on it then.”

 

Connor smiles, putting his hand back down on the pillow. “Do it, I think it’ll be really sweet.”

 

Troye doesn’t roll his eyes like Connor expects him to and instead he surprisingly says, “You come up with the most romantic shit, I have no idea how you do it.”

 

“You’re a good muse,” he says softly, and Troye looks up at him like he’s just said he thinks all babies should be murdered, but Connor can tell he’s trying not to ruin the moment so he laughs and nods, clearly embarrassed. Connor feels a little proud he can still make Troye blush after so long. Troye diligently paints his nail and Connor quite likes how it looks so he promises to keep in on until Troye can come back and take it off.

When they say their goodbyes at the airport, Troye holds on to Connor’s painted finger for a second longer before turning around to continue his journey, without Connor for the time being.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part! Again if you liked it let me know!


	3. New York/Australia

Connor takes out the extra room key and slips it into the slot, not waiting for the electric beep to let him know it's the right door before he’s already pushing his way in. Sometimes Connor confuses up from down, left from right, even imaginary worlds with the actual real one when it comes to being next to Troye. Connor can hardly think when he hasn’t seen Troye for a few days that feel like eternities. Of course they’ve kept each other informed on how they’ve spent their past few days, but talking on the phone will never compare to holding Troye or seeing his eyes in real life versus a pixelated version through facetime.

 

Connor opens the door softly, making sure not to bother the no doubt sleeping boy inside. Sure enough, Troye is laying over the covers, jeans and shoes still on; if this were a painting Connor would title it "Sleeping Boy Forgets Common Sense". Connor chuckles softly at Troye's half opened mouth and his hand resting ever so delicately over his chest, fingers slightly curled. He looks like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for a prince to kiss him awake. Connor kneels at the foot of the bed where Troye's feet are dangling on the edge and slips his shoes off. He's about to unzip Troye’s jeans so he's more comfortable when a single eye cracks open. "Connor!" he exclaims, as if he didn't just see him a mere 5 days ago. "What time is it? When did you get here? How'd you get in?"

 

"For someone so groggy you sure ask a lot of questions, Sivan," Connor says, pushing Troye's flattened curls to the side. "It's currently 8:30. I checked out of my hotel an hour ago. Your dad gave me an extra room key."

 

Troye sits up, all grogginess gone now that he's staring into green eyes brighter than the yellow sun. He's about to lean in for a kiss when he coughs onto Connor's face instead. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," he says, embarrassingly planting his face into his own germ filled hands, however, there’s laughter when he says, “That is so gross. If you want to cancel your deposit on this boyfriend deal just let me know."

 

Connor rolls his eyes. "Seriously it’s not a big deal. I'm going to get sick anyway since I'm sleeping here tonight so really you coughing on my face just speeds things up."

 

"You're so weird. If you coughed on me I'd have to sue you for 10,000 dollars."

 

"Is that your health insurance bill?"

 

"No, that's how much my face is insured for."

 

Connor purses his lips. "You mean 10 _million_ dollars, right?" He kisses Troye's germy face. "Stop pretending you're modest."

 

"It doesn't suit me, right?" Troye agrees, noticing his unbuttoned pants for the first time. He looks up at Connor. "Were you trying to get some while I was sleeping?"

 

"No, I was trying to make you comfortable," Connor points at Troye's feet. "See, I took your shoes off too. Totally not trying to get in your pants."

 

“Yeah, because you know you don’t have to _try_ to get in my pants, right? All you have to do is give me that look,” Troye says, imitating said look and laughing at himself. He gives Connor a quick kiss on his smiling lips and sits up. “So, now that you’re here, what do you want to do?”

 

Connor takes a good look at him and his face involuntarily splits into a smile because even though Troye looks amazing he’s actually exhausted and sick. His curls are slightly flattened from the flight and half his face is flushed from being so deeply pushed into the comforter. His eyes are drooping and he obviously wants to rest yet here he is asking Connor what he wants to do. “You were just in Toronto a few hours ago and DC this morning and now you’re in New York, do you really think I’m going to make you do anything?”

 

Troye smiles, biting his lip quickly before stealing another kiss. Connor really doesn’t mind if he gets sick from this trip because being with Troye is enough to make up for any after effects. That thought scares him, because looking into Troye’s magnificent eyes he’s pretty sure he would die for this boy. Troye narrows his eyes when Connor laughs at his own absurdity, as if there would ever come a time he would need to sacrifice himself for Troye.

 

“What were you just thinking?” Troye asks, picking up his legs and laying them over Connor’s lap.

 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know what I was thinking. It would probably make you physically sick.”

 

Troye laughs, pressing his hot forehead to Connor’s cold one and smiling at the touch. “I would love nothing more than to pick apart that insanely beautiful head of yours,” he admits, closing his eyes to avoid Connor’s explosion of emotion. Troye tends to say disgustingly sweet things but act as if he’s not even noticing what he’s saying. He always quickly changes the subject before Connor can dwell on it. Connor likes this more than if Troye was as sappy as him, because it shows that Troye can’t actively stop himself from being so mushy but he rather pretend he’s not.

 

Connor wraps his arms around Troye and pulls him back onto the bed beside him. Their foreheads still together. Troye opens his eyes slowly and the closeness makes Connor’s breath hitch. He stares and stares and stares at Troye’s baby blues that sometimes look grey when there isn’t much light like right now and Connor wants to stop time and live in this instant. He wants to stay like this with Troye, wrapped in each other’s arms, safe and secure and warm, with no deadlines or tours or meetings or plane flights. Troye’s breathing is warm on Connor’s face and his eyes are twinkling, something Connor can’t help but notice always happens when they’re together. Connor’s hand finds Troye’s in between their bodies and Troye squeezes Connor’s hand as if it’s the only thing keeping him from sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic. Troye smiles as he looks down at Connor’s still-painted ring finger and Connor smiles, remembering all the times he looked at it and thought of Troye while they were apart. Connor slips his leg between Troye’s and smiles at the sharp breath Troye takes when Connor’s knee brushes against his thigh. Troye’s eyes are completely closed and his breathing slows as his hands wander over Connor’s chest and shoulders and their lips are colliding before Connor can tell Troye it’s time to sleep.

 

Connor keeps his hands at his sides, giving Troye the reigns in case he wants to stop at any point. Troye notices this and brings Connor’s hand directly to his butt, causing laughter to erupt between the two like piñatas busting open. They are laughing in each other’s arms now but Connor has to refrain from commenting on how cute Troye looks when his eyes crinkle at the edges. Sometimes the happiness in Connor’s chest expands so much it leaves him absolutely breathless. Sometimes, when his gaze lands on Troye, every single hair on his body stands at attention, as if also wanting to get a good look of the gorgeous boy. Sometimes, and only sometimes, does Connor feel completely petrified of how much he loves Troye. Troye takes a deep breath, no doubt inhaling the cologne he bought for Connor and loves so much, and cuddles into Connor’s embrace, placing his head on his chest. Connor’s always amazed by how perfectly they always fit together, not necessarily because of their heights or body parts, but mostly because their bodies just know how to adjust around each other. Troye’s arms always know how to perfectly wrap around Connor’s torso. Connor’s legs always find the perfect space between Troye’s. Troye’s head always finds the place where Connor’s heart is in his chest and that’s where it rests every time. They fall asleep like this, a portrait of an amalgamation of body parts; two people so intertwined they might as well be fused together.

 

When Connor wakes up the next morning with a sore throat, not a single atom in his body is upset about it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Everyone will hate me.”

 

“No one is going to hate you.”

 

“I’m going to lose all of my Australian fans,” Troye says, his anxiety evident in the tone of his voice, “they already think I give the US more attention, now they’ll have reason to think so.”

 

“Troye,” Connor says, his own heartbeat racing because it’s in Troye’s chest, “please sit down and drink some tea, you’re worrying yourself sicker than you already are.”

 

“I don’t know how to express how incredibly upset I am over this,” Troye says, followed by a stream of coughing because he’s crying now and Connor has to bite his tongue to stop himself from choking up as well. Connor has never experienced a worse feeling than having his heart crying on the phone while he’s thousands of miles away and completely useless.

 

“Tro, just press submit on that Tumblr post. We’ve read through it a million times and it shows how upset you are. You have to stop beating yourself up over this. You seriously have no choice. They’ll understand.” Connor pauses, bracing himself because his heart won’t stop crying and he’s having a hard time keeping a level head when all he wants to do is buy a plane ticket and go hold Troye until every last tear on his cheeks is dried up. “Your fans adore you, they’ll understand and they’ll forgive you.”

 

“But they’re already queued up,” Troye chokes out between sobs. Connor can hear Shaun trying to soothe him, but Connor knows Troye’s head is racing with too many thoughts to pay attention.

 

“And they’ll queue up again when you reschedule,” Connor assures him. “They would queue on the moon if it meant a chance to see you. Your health is so much more important.” Connor doesn’t know how to get the point across. He’s currently gripping his countertop so tightly that his knuckles are white. He knows Troye feels disappointed, but nothing matters to Connor more than Troye’s wellbeing. “Listen, Troye, submit your post and wait for the responses before you start jumping to conclusions.”

 

Connor hears muffled sounds and a long exhale before he sees the tweet pop up in his notifications. He immediately starts refreshing the tweet and the responses are exactly as he thought. He waits for Troye to gather himself and read enough to convince himself that his fans-

 

“Don’t hate me,” his voice is small as he realizes this, but at least Connor can hear he’s not crying anymore.

 

“I don’t feel bad I get to say this: I told you so,” Connor says, finally letting out a breath and sitting down. “I told you they’d understand.”

 

Troye stays quiet, probably reading more tweets, Connor figures, and he can hear the smile in his voice when he repeats, “They don’t hate me.”

 

“I knew they wouldn’t.”

 

Troye lets out an exasperated laugh of relief. “I’m such a drama queen, how do you put up with me?”

 

“I love you too much, I guess,” Connor admits. He rests his head in his hands, staring out at the moon from his window. He suddenly gets the corniest idea ever but he can’t bring himself to care. “Hey Tro,” he says, keeping his voice low like he’s whispering a well-kept secret, “when the moon’s out later over there, go look at it and send me a picture. I’ll send you a picture of it here and that way you’ll feel a little less overwhelmed about everything because the moon is still the same and will always be in the sky no matter what happens.”

 

Troye laughs, a genuine, surprised laugh. “You are literally the grossest person,” he says, but it sounds like, “I love you so much and you make me so happy” to Connor’s ears.

 

“I’m going to hang up now that you’re laughing at me.” Connor gets up from his chair, putting his phone down by his feet so Troye can hear his angry footsteps.

 

“No!” Troye calls out through the phone, playing along with Connor’s terrible jokes. “Okay, that’s a cute idea. Now go to sleep, thanks for hearing me out and calming me down. Dad says thanks too.”

 

“Well it’s sort of in my job description as best friend and boyfriend, so don’t sweat it,” he replies, actually getting up this time to go to his room. “Get some rest, I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

 

“Con, you’re going to worry either way,” Troye says, pausing before continuing, “I love you and I don’t think I say this enough but I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.”

 

Connor halts in the middle of his hallway. He smiles, holding his phone with both hands to feel Troye’s words seep into his skin. “I love you too, so much,” hearing his voice crack so he quickly adds, “Now go, call me tomorrow.”

 

Connor falls asleep, smiling and warm and anxious and worried all the same time.


	4. London/Paris/Berlin/Stockholm

 

Connor arrives in London first so he buys a coffee and finds a place to sit, his hands on his phone and his eyes on the gate. He waits for Troye’s plane to land, glad they timed it so neither would have to wait too long for the other. Connor passes the time by watching flights arrive from neighboring gates. He sees smiling families, stressed out business people, and worried couples trying to catch their connecting flights. Connor loves this aspect of the airport. He loves how every human emotion is housed in one chaotic building. Most people hate flying, but he loves it when it means he’ll get to see Troye at the end of a heinous 12+ hour flight.  

 

When Troye finally arrives, Connor has to stop himself from grabbing him and kissing him right then and there. He allows himself the briefest of hugs before he’s hugging Sage and Laurelle just as tightly, trying to convey how happy he is that they’ve been taking care of Troye. He gives Zac a happy one arm hug, but his attention is back on Troye and it’s taking all his willpower not to hold his hand because he can already see fans coming to ask for pictures.

 

A while later they’re in their hotel room, but before they can even drop their bags completely, Connor is already pulling Troye into his arms because they’re finally alone and he’s been wanting to hold him since he let him go in New York. “Why do only a few days apart feel like an eternity?” Connor asks, his arms encircling Troye’s waist.

 

“Probably because you’re obsessed with me,” Troye teases, but his smile reveals just how much he’s missed this too. His arms rest around Connor’s shoulders, where they’re always meant to be.

 

“Are we really long distance if we see each other every month?” Connor asks, thumbing the fabric of Troye’s new coat.

 

“Yes, even if it’s just 2 days it’s long distance because we’re distant and it’s too long for my liking.”

 

“Sounds like a song lyric,” Connor teases back. This is what they’re like most of the time, taking turns making fun of each other’s mushiness to avoid actually acknowledging it.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Connor asks, pushing a long curl out of Troye’s eyes.

 

“Yes, mom,” Troye laughs when Connor makes a face. “I feel a lot better, and hugging you helps I guess. Do you want to get actual food?” Troye asks, expertly changing the subject. “I’m still starving even though I ate on the plane.”

 

Connor nods, but he doesn’t move because that would require letting go of Troye and Connor isn’t sure he wants to do that just yet. Troye narrows his eyes, but doesn’t make any attempts at moving either. They stare each other down, waiting to see who will break first. Not surprisingly, Troye lets go as his stomach rumbles. “I’m hungry,” he complains, trying not to look into Connor’s pointed gaze that says “you lost”. Troye grabs his wallet and Connor’s hand, pulling him out of the room.

 

 

They find a restaurant close to their hotel and order two beers to start off their meal.

 

“Cheers,” Troye says, holding up his glass. Connor is about to reach for his glass when Troye’s posture stops him. His arm is behind his head, and he looks so relaxed Connor is overtaken by the sudden urge to take a picture of this moment. He pulls his phone out to which Troye groans. “What are you doing?” he asks.

 

“Let me take a picture of you like this, you look so casual, you look so you,” Connor says, aware he isn’t making much sense, but Connor’s sense seems to always take a vacation when he’s around Troye. He laughs at the face Troye makes, so he pulls his phone away to give him a look of his own. “Come on, cooperate with me, Troye.”

 

Troye keeps his face neutral as Connor raises his own glass to join his in frame, but when he sees this small gesture, this clinking of glasses, it causes the shyest of smiles to appear on his face. Connor snaps the picture, smiling at how natural and casual it looks because he ended up catching Troye off guard. Connor flips his phone to show Troye, who nods in approval and says, “Okay, that is pretty fucking cute.”

 

Connor smiles, saving it to his aptly named “T + C” folder on his phone. It’s his favorite folder, with good reason. It’s filled with pictures of them, going as far back as screenshots of their first few skype conversations, to pictures of Troye still half asleep in Connor’s bed. There are countless cheesy selfies, but also incredibly intimate, insanely beautiful pictures of Troye. He has one he particularly likes: it’s completely dark except for the light coming in through the window, causing shadows to dance across the room, and Troye is in the center of Connor’s bed, white sheets in a jumbled mess around his waist. His hair is wild and a ray of light lands right across his face, illuminating his eyes like a bandit mask. He looks so incredibly gorgeous in it that Connor feels a bit selfish at being the only person who’s ever seen it. He feels Troye’s eyes on him now and as he looks up, Troye has a knowing smile when he asks, “Are you looking at that picture of me again?”

 

“How do you know it’s that one I’m looking at?” Connor asks, placing his phone back in his pocket.

 

“It’s so obvious, you always make the same face when you look at it. It’s the same face you made when you took it,” Troye’s smile turns into a chuckle. “You really know how to make a boy feel special with that stare of yours.”

 

Connor bites his lip, wishing in that instant they were the nobodies Troye is so afraid of becoming because at least then he could lean over and kiss him like no one’s watching, because no one would be. He sometimes thinks it’s so unfair that they might never be those people. He knows why they keep their relationship private. He knows how much more annoying it would for Troye to have to answer questions about Connor when he’s trying to promote his music. He knows how incessant the fans would be, even more so than they are now. He knows all these things, and yet, he can’t bring himself to justify why he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand or kiss him at the airport like all the other couples do. There’s nothing Connor wants more than to shout his love for Troye from every rooftop in every city they visit.

 

 

 

The next night, after the show, Troye is exalted. The entire car ride to the hotel his hands are shaking with excitement and he can’t keep his mouth shut. “Having Tkay open the show was such a special touch. The crowd loved her and I just love having her for DKLA. I hated the barrier bit, but there’s gonna be some really cool pictures from tonight. I just…it’s only been a few days but I can’t believe how much I missed it,” Troye takes a deep breath and lets it out as an exasperated laugh, surprised by his own excitement. “I can’t believe I was still terrified of performing a few months ago, and now I can’t think of anything I love more.”

 

Connor clears his throat.

 

“Not including you, obviously, ya dumb,” Troye says and rolls his eyes, but his face instantly morphs back into his previous manic smile. “I just love it so much. The exhilarating feeling from the lights and the crowd, it’s indescribable. It’s still so new and different each night. I feel so high, I have so much energy that I don’t know what to do with.”

 

Connor smiles and leans in so only Troye can hear him, “I think I have an idea on what you can do with it.”

 

Troye laughs outright, sounding so jovial and youthful, Connor forgets he’s 20 already. Connor forgets his own age so often around Troye, because they’re so new to this, it feels like they are both irresponsible 16 year olds with all their emotions and hormones running rampant inside them.

 

Once they are in their hotel room, they turn into those hormonal teenagers within seconds of closing the door. Troye’s hands can’t seem to grab enough of Connor at once so they’re moving furiously, trying to pull him as close as possible, but simultaneously pushing him away so they can pace themselves. Connor can’t stop laughing, because so far this tour has provided the best sex they’ve ever had. Connor never knew performing could be such an aphrodisiac. “I hope you never stop touring,” Connor admits, with difficulty, because his lower lip is between Troye’s teeth.

 

“The sex is great, yeah?” Troye agrees, quick to take Connor’s jumper off and toss it over his head onto the floor. Troye returns his hands back to Connor’s body, but this time he’s touching bare skin and the contact seems to drive him mad. Connor tries his best to steady himself but he wants this and he wants this now. He pushes Troye against the bed, causing a loud oomph to come out of Troye’s mouth and they laugh momentarily. Connor catches himself, his hand tangled in Troye’s hair and he just stares at the boy next to him. Troye’s pupils are dilated to their maximum capacity, with the blue of his irises darker than usual. Connor thinks Troye looks utterly insane, manic, hungry and absolutely beautiful. “Quit staring at me,” Troye demands, wriggling under Connor’s weight, colliding his hips into Connor’s to drive his point home.

 

“I’ll stop staring when you stop being so beautiful.”

 

Troye feigns a choking motion. “Gag me.”

 

Connor laughs. “Do you want me to?”

 

“Actually I want to gag you,” Troye says, pushing his hips again, “so you’ll shut the fuck up already.”

 

Connor laughs, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Troye’s lips that has Troye rolling his eyes. He continues kissing down his body, making sure to ignore any erogenous areas. Troye is a complete mess at this point, but Connor can’t help himself, he loves driving him a little wild.

 

Once they’re both finished and satisfied, Troye has his head on Connor’s chest and Connor is playing with Troye’s messy, sweaty strands of hair. Troye’s hands are at Connor’s hips, dancing back and forth across his abdomen, humming ‘for him’ under his breath. Connor smiles, letting his eyes close because the bliss from this moment feels like nothing he’s experienced before. Connor is never sure if he’s experiencing new things with Troye, or if the same experiences just continue to get better. Either way, Connor can’t complain.

 

It snows a few days later while they’re still in London and after a good 20 minutes outside Troye wants to go back to bed to cuddle and sleep and eat and not move the entire day. Again, Connor can’t complain.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The train ride to Paris consists of Troye singing Adele’s new album softly under his breath and Connor trying to get good pictures whenever they’re out from under the tunnels. Connor enjoys the ride, it’s relatively quick and they’re able to just sit and relax without much worry. Troye’s head lands on Connor’s shoulder at one point and he looks up, knowing smile showing how excited he is for their next stop.

 

When they arrive at their hotel, they quickly drop their stuff so they can explore the city. Connor is excited both because they’re in the city of love and he has a new camera so he makes the group stop every 5 minutes while he takes a picture of a tree or a cute wall. Troye laughs after Connor particularly struggles trying to capture the perfect picture of a puddle. “I think you’re supposed to be taking pictures of that,” Troye says, pushing Connor’s camera towards the Eiffel tower.

 

“Fine,” Connor says, and stops to capture a picture. He points his camera towards Troye and snaps a shot of him looking at the Eiffel tower. Connor knows which one he likes more.

 

The rest of the day involves some press and the occasional run in with fans. Connor hangs back when fans come up to them and ask for a picture with Troye. He watches on with quiet adoration as Troye takes adorable selfies with fans, but he’s quickly snapped out of it when they start asking for pictures with him. He feels slightly shy, even though he knows he has fans all over the world just like Troye. There’s something about being out with Troye that makes him incredibly nervous but also ecstatic. Nervous because he doesn’t want to slip up and say the wrong thing, and ecstatic because Troye is in his element. This tour has brought out new confidence in Troye, and Connor loves seeing people excitedly ask Troye for pictures and compliment his music. In those moments, Connor completely forgets himself. He forgets anyone would want to talk to him when Troye is around. He is so happy that Troye is finally receiving feedback on the work he’s been preparing for so long.

 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” Troye says once a group of fans walk away excitedly after asking for pictures.

 

“Do what?” Connor asks.

 

“Remove yourself from the group like you don’t know me,” Troye says, looking down for a brief moment.

 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Connor responds immediately. “I’m just giving you space with your fans.”

 

“They’re your fans too.”

 

“But this trip is about your tour. I’m just here to support you.”

 

Troye stops dead on the sidewalk and turns to Connor. “You’re an idiot, but you’re a supportive idiot.”

 

Troye laughs at Connor’s appalled face. Connor can tell by his eyes that Troye wants to kiss him right now and he prays the next street is an empty alley he can pull Troye into and fulfill that want. Sadly, there is no alley and there will be no kissing because Dani comes up from behind them and reminds them Troye has a radio station interview in 30 minutes. Duty calls, Troye’s eye roll says, but Connor is almost glad for his schedule. Press junkets so far have been interruptions, giving them the chance to balance the happiness with some boring moments so they don’t get overwhelmed. When they went to New Zealand, they didn’t have any obligations or schedules and it had been so amazing. Them not having moments like those often make that one even more special, and Connor likes that.  That’s not to say Connor doesn’t wish they’d get more opportunities like that one, but he’s glad they find their own little vacations in the middle of hectic schedules.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Connor and Troye are walking down the streets of Berlin, when something in a shop window catches Troye’s interest and makes him stop and look before deciding he wants to go in, tugging on Connor’s sleeve.

 

The shop is very cute and filled with knickknacks like polaroids and handmade tote bags. Connor takes out his phone because it’s 4 in the afternoon Berlin time but he sees Troye with a hat on his head, making faces at his own reflection but Connor forgets his previous train of thought because it gets detained at the station. Troye turns around with his tongue sticking out to show Connor his hat. He looks down at Connor’s phone in his hand and gives him a small nudge. “You should call your parents, Con,” he says, carefully placing the hat back on the rack, “I think it’s like 10 over there.”

 

The laugh that escapes Connor’s mouth is involuntary. It’s a laugh of disbelief, because here he is standing in a small shop in Germany with the love of his life, while the love of his life is thinking about his family in Minnesota. He’s stunned, but he really should get used to Troye constantly surprising him. He checks his world clock app on his phone. It’s 9am back home so he calls his mom, knowing she’s already awake preparing dinner with Nicola.

 

“Connor!” his mom says excitedly after only the second ring. “What a lovely surprise.”

 

Troye smiles, momentarily leaning in to say, “Hi Cheryl,” into the phone.

 

“Oh Troye, hello,” Cheryl says. “I’m here with Nicola, she says hi too.”

 

Troye smiles, picking up another hat and placing it on his head.

 

“I just wanted to call and see how everyone is doing over there,” Connor says, leaning against a table with dozens of buttons displayed on it.

 

“Oh we’re all doing great. How’s your trip? Nicola keeps showing me pictures she finds on the internet. You seem to be having a great time.”

 

“I am,” Connor says, sounding the happiest he’s ever been even to his own ears. “It’s amazing, mom. I bought a new camera so I’ve been taking so many pictures. I’ll make sure to send you a file once I have good wifi.”

 

His mom laughs, clearly endeared by her son’s enthusiasm. “I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, honey. You deserve this little vacation, you’ve worked so hard this year. We’re all so proud of you.”

 

Connor’s heart drops thinking of his family gathered at the table in a few hours for Thanksgiving dinner without him. “I’m really sorry I’m missing thanksgiving though,” he admits, giving Troye a reassuring smile so he knows he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, except maybe two places at once. Troye squeezes his bicep in an encouraging gesture, and keeps pacing around the shop, busying himself with random items to give Connor some space. Connor couldn’t adore him more if he tried.

 

“It’s absolutely fine, Connor. We’ve seen Troye perform, it makes sense why you’d want to be with him as much as possible. And besides your father and I are very proud of him too so we’re glad you’re there to support him. Just stay warm and drink lots of fluids so you two don’t get sick again,” she orders, ever the Midwestern thoughtful mom.

 

Connor feels his heart pick itself back up and burst into fireworks. “I love you so much, mom. I can’t wait to see you. I promise I’ll be home soon.”

 

“Don’t rush, enjoy being young and in love. Keep seeing the world with Troye, your family will still be here when you’re done,” she says. “I have to go sweetie, Nicola is trying to fancy up the turkey too much and you know uncle Bob won’t eat anything not 100% American tasting. Have a safe rest of your trip, dear. We love you both. Send Laurelle and Sage our love.”

 

“I will, tell everyone I wish them happy thanksgiving and I love you,” Connor says and hangs up after his mom and Nicola throw him kisses. He keeps his phone pressed to his face, wishing he could jump inside it and teleport home for dinner.

 

Troye comes up next to him and puts a cat figurine in Connor’s hand. “What did mama Franta say? How’s the family?”

 

“They’re all doing good,” Connor says, smiling at the lopsided kitten. “Mom sends her love.”

 

Troye beams. “I seriously love your family.”

 

“The feeling’s mutual, trust me.” Connor takes Troye’s hand momentarily, just to feel the warmth in his palm but lets it go before he can get used to it. “Want to get something to eat? All this walking is making me hungry again.”

 

“You just read my mind,” Troye says excitedly, and his eyes brighten. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

 

“Do share,” Connor coaxes, stepping forward to press his cheek to Troye’s shoulder for the briefest moment.

 

“Well, we can have our own thanksgiving here,” Troye says, looking down at Connor. “Germans must have turkey, right?”

 

Connor nods, the smile on his face no doubt obnoxiously cheesy. “We can make our own thanksgiving.”

 

They leave the shop, and Connor has to stop for a moment to laugh hysterically when Troye just says the words “turkey and Berlin” into siri. They eventually find a place that serves an assortment of food and they make their own thanksgiving feast, swapping stuffing for eintopf and turkey for sauerbraten. It’s a bit different, but then again so is everything about them, Connor thinks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After the final show, they are back in their hotel room just the two of them, celebrating with clumsy kisses and messy hands. They’re both more than a little tipsy from the numerous bottles of champagne opened throughout the course of the night. The moment Troye had stepped off stage, Connor had been there waiting with open arms. Backstage was a frenzy with bottles popping open and cheerful laughter tied in with congratulations for everyone who made this tour possible. Troye had made a small speech thanking everyone who has supported him and his eyes were on Connor for most of it. Connor would never admit it, but he loves being the center of Troye’s attention.

 

Now back in their room, Connor feels light headed but he can’t pinpoint if it’s the alcohol in his system or the excitement emanating off of Troye for finishing his first ever tour. They’re laying on the bed and Troye is kissing Connor like he can’t get enough, as if each kiss robs him of breath but he needs to keep kissing Connor to get it back. It’s intoxicating to have Troye so excited from the high of performing his last show. He’s following his dreams and Connor has been a part of it each step of the way, from the writing process to the filming of the trilogy to now this amazing sold out tour. Since Connor can’t express with words how proud he is of Troye, he tries to tell him with his hands by trailing them down the small of his back. He carves his happiness into the palms of Troye’s hands with his fingertips. He writes thousands of sonnets about how lucky he feels across the stretch of Troye’s stomach. He pauses, catching his breath in between the symphonies he’s orchestrating with his tongue across Troye’s thighs. He looks up at Troye’s hands tangled in his own hair, eyes closed tight, brows scrunched together. Connor would never describe Troye as vulnerable, the exception being when his body is under Connor’s tutelage. He never looks as out of control as when Connor is tickling him with sweet words on his skin. They move so fluidly together that Connor can’t imagine ever doing this with anyone else. He has friends that constantly have different people in their beds each night, but Connor wouldn’t be opposed to only having Troye in his for the rest of his life.

 

“I’m so in love with you,” Troye says in between languid kisses. His eyes are half closed and his lips barely off of Connor’s when he says, “I never thought it was possible to love this much.”

 

Connor gets the same feeling now as when he did when Troye said those words for the first time. He feels dizzy with love and happiness, but Connor is too tongue tied to form a proper sentence, so he kisses Troye to relay his emotions. They practically dissolve into each other, their frenzied behavior from earlier now replaced with soft touches that cause chills to run down spines and hairs to raise. Connor loses track of time, because tonight isn’t about reaching a finish line, but about seeing how long they can run together. There are pauses in between heavy moments so Troye can catch his breath and steal Connor’s with a simple look. At one point, someone texts Troye to congratulate him and the noise knocks them both back to reality. Connor laughs, casually tracing lines down Troye’s spine as he turns to grab his phone and chuck it under the bed so it won’t bother them again.

 

Connor’s hands find the dip in Troye’s hips and rest there as he stares at him, completely and unbelievably in love with the boy beneath him. Troye’s eyelids flutter like hummingbird wings whenever Connor touches him. Their breaths sync up as they take turns taking over the show, one naturally pushing when the other pulls.

 

The night lasts forever, at least it seems that way to Connor, and he hopes forever never ends.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from I'll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson (because when I read that line I immediately thought of Troye and Connor). This fic is basically comprised of scenes I've made up to accompany some of the things we know that have been happening on this tour (like the fact that Connor has been with Troye for 90% of it). This first part is in Troye's point of view but the rest are in Connor's.
> 
> I don't claim that any of this is real or that they're even dating, this is all just for fun. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this part and want to read more! Comments make me happy!


End file.
